


Magnet

by Atlantic



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Benvolio and Tybalt make mistakes at a party oops, Drabble, M/M, Mentioned Tybalt/Mercutio, Oral Sex, the world needs more tyvolio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlantic/pseuds/Atlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benvolio saw the world like magnets, and, inevitably, opposites always attracted; not that he ever planned to figure that out at a botched crashing of a Capulet party, anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnet

**Author's Note:**

> So, sorry if the notes are long or anything, but I feel like I should explain that this is my first time uploading or even attempting to polish anything to actually be published. I literally wrote all of this in a hazy burst between 1AM and 5AM, and then fixed it up in the morning. It's basically just a drabble. I'm thinking of adding more parts to this in some sort of series, it's basically in a modern AU where they're all spoiled teenagers in their 12th year of schooling and the Romeo and Juliet incident was more of an intense melodrama.
> 
> This is also kind of my first time writing anything explicit, and it's honestly part of the reason why I'm on the fence about just deleting this entirely, since I tend to get a lot of anxiety writing anything like that. Anyways, yeah, enjoy reading?

Benvolio noticed something when he first encountered magnets in an early school classroom; no matter how many minutes he wasted trying to push sides with the same symbols on them together, they would absolutely refuse to so much as touch, gliding past each other no matter how carefully and slowly he went. Yet, completely different sides would lock on to each other in fervor and take effort to pull apart with his tiny arms. A teacher tried to explain it to him once. He still felt dissatisfied with the explanation.

After he had gotten past primary school, he did learn about magnetic force and the likes, all the science dictating how they work, but he'd always kept the general principle magnets had taught him: opposites attract, and maybe that was why the city of Verona couldn't pull itself out of the constant feuds.

Mercutio and Tybalt were more similar than either of them were like to admit, and they had swallowed each other up in a feverish race to prove themsleves--in bright fire, clicking teeth, dangerously reckless fighting, arrays of colourful bruises lining both of their necks and scratches raking their backs. Benvolio had been there for the whole long ordeal, and he had seen how it had played out even in the epilogue of their hectic relationship. He and Tybalt were the same sides of a magnet. There was an inexplicable force between them, but trying to break it apart and reach a mutual understanding was ultimately impossible.

When Mercutio had finally given up on the ordeal, Benvolio spent about two weeks practically glued to his hip, just to make sure his friend was fine. He didn't know what was happening with Tybalt; he had gotten into significantly more fights after the break-up, but things had finally settled down into the normal routine of Verona after a few months.

So when Benvolio found himself in the presence of Tybalt Capulet, the sole person he disagreed on almost everything with, he could almost feel the magnetic attraction in the pit of his stomach when he wasn't immediately sneered at. He shouldn't have even been there, really. He had this horrible, alarmingly frequent habit of being places he shouldn't have found himself at. Namely, Capulet parties. Benvolio had crashed enough that every Montague called him suicidal (not that they were wrong.)

There was something elegant about them. Probably the massive amounts of money spent on each one, and the invitations that found themselves in the hands of everyone who wasn't directly affliated with Montagues. In contrast, the parties at the Montague estate tended to be wild, eclectic, and allowed as many people as could humanly fit, so as long as they didn't cause trouble (however, anyone who was knowingly a Capulet had a tendency to disappear from the party early with much more bruises than they had entered with.) They were fun, but Benvolio found himself on the floor and hardly standing much more quickly than he wanted to.

He had managed to get a invitation from a friend who wasn't going as soon as he caught wind of the rumours around the school that the Capulets were planning a party, and it was as simple as just putting on a mask, quickly handing the invitation to those blocking the door, and brushing past. He had never caused issues in the past, so it wasn't like he was a notorious figure to watch out for. Benvolio Montague was as harmless as a fly, most days.

So he had naturally been enjoying himself, entertaining a few conversations with attractive people, consumed more amounts of alcohol than was probably responsible for his age, and ambled around the floor as leisurely as he would in his own home. By the time he had realized an unfortunately recognizable taller figure was eyeing him, it was too late to duck away.

Tybalt approached him with all the measured poise and dignity of a cat cornering prey that was incapable of doing anything but watching in dread as its demise neared. As he scanned the half of Benvolio's face that wasn't covered by a mask, as well as his thin body shape, the grip the Capulet held on the cup in his hand visibly tightened. Finally, a sneer curled to his lips in disdain, glowering down at the shorter teen in immediate recognition.

"You shouldn't be here," he spat, taking a hazardously closer step to Benvolio.

"Well, you're not wrong." Benvolio didn't have bright, boisterous humour that was spontaneous and chaotic like Mercutio's; he relied on a dry, deadpan formula that was still enough to get him a credible amount of bruises from talking back to the wrong types of people.

Tybalt's teeth grit, and Benvolio swore he had just heard something reminiscent of a hiss. "Not only are you a Montague, you're one of the worst ones. A holier-than-thou pacifist that still seems like he gets wrapped up in every fight on this side of Italy. You should find yourself out while the night is still young, Benvolio."

Benvolio winced internally at the truth, but simply blinked lazily, sighing and pulling off his mask to let his curls of hair fall onto his forehead. The wisest plan would to be get out of here, but something seemed to keep Benvolio rooted to the spot.

_Opposite sides of a magnet, Montague on a Capulet ballroom floor._

"Listen, I'm not here to cause any trouble--"

God, what else did he expect but Tybalt pushing him? Of course he would do that. Benvolio stumbled into a couple dancing, stuttering out an apology as they grumbled and took several steps away from him.

"Just to enjoy myself. I've never caused any trouble any other times I did this," Benvolio pleaded, choosing to ignore that those were the times where Tybalt didn't walk into him out of rotten luck.

In response, all Tybalt had to growl was "Other times. Except when your cousin created an absolute mess, right?" Tybalt was pushing him out of the crowd with the steps towards Benvolio he was taking until he felt himself bump against a wall that was considerably isolated from the rest of the party.

Benvolio slowly developed a deep grimace, suddenly regretting that he had never written a will up to this point, or asked whether he wanted to be cremated with his death or not. He could feel his mouth go dry, wishing he was less of a lightweight when it came to alcohol so he had the ability to outmaneuver this.

"You can't be here." Benvolio noticed for the first time that Tybalt almost seemed urgent about it rather than pissed off, although every word came out raking and abrasive as the Capulet leaned over him slightly in an imposing fashion. Rather than find it intimidating, Benvolio was terrified to feel a gentle pull in his stomach, eyes shutting as he tried to control his breathing.

There was nothing appealing about Tybalt Capulet. In fact, if Benvolio got one person in Verona to punch in the face with no repercussions, Tybalt would undoubtedly be at the top of the list. At least, that was what Benvolio was telling himself. There was definitely _nothing_ attractive about the swagger he held at all times around himself, or his dark hair and eyes, or the ridiculous designer clothes that seemed glued to his body in marvelously appealing ways; all of these things about Tybalt Capulet, which were sharp contrasts to Benvolio's lax attitude and clothing style. Tybalt, who Benvolio had a habit of staring at for too long in classes they had the misfortune of sharing, even when he knew the Capulet was well aware of his gazes. Tybalt, who he had been forced to do a group project with and you could cut the tension with a knife--or, most notably, Tybalt, the one singular person who had managed to give Benvolio an overabundance of black eyes and bloody noses just because the Montague had a misguided sense of how to keep peace with the least peaceful person in Verona. He'd be lying if he said something about Tybalt wasn't tiltillating and interesting because of their sheer differences.

_Magnet._

"Why can't I? Nobody here cares or is too drunk to recognize me, you just have some stupid sense of dignity to prove." Benvolio should've just agreed and bowed out of the party, like he usually would have, but something stubbornly nagged at him to question Tybalt's reasoning. He laughed a little bit in a sharp, uncomfortable bark, which made Tybalt glower so severely that Benvolio almost felt himself shrinking into the wall.

"Did you not fucking understand? You can't be here." Benvolio watched as Tybalt's fists balled, immediately readying himself for a punch, sighing in dejection as he realized nothing was going to be solved against Tybalt-fucking-Capulet unless it involved a well-placed punch to the eye or gut. "I just--I can't...deal with you of all people trying to argue your way out of this." He sounded exasperated, which Benvolio found more than a little satisfying, if not confounding.

"Right, of course, I forgot you can't solve anything unless you get to beat someone into the floor in the process. Just go ahead, then. Try not to give me a concussion." Benvolio, for once, glared back, the sheer annoyance glimmering forcefully in his eyes.

"I can solve my problems in other ways." Tybalt's fists were still balled, which convinced Benvolio very much otherwise.

"Sure," he snorted with derisiveness. "The day I see you do anything that doesn't involve some sort of massive anger tantrum is the day I kiss you." Benvolio realized a little too late he could've came up with a better comparison, suddenly breaking eye contact and looking down with a red face.

Tybalt's hand slammed against the wall next to him, and Benvolio's head jerked up in preparation to fight the Capulet, hopefully with just enough time to wrestle him away and make a quick getaway. Before he could scarcely catch his breath, however, he realized in complete shock that there was another pair of lips against his.

Tybalt pulled away the kiss quickly, staring in both uncertainty and in horror of his sudden decision, beginning to stand fully back up in embarrassment. However, Benvolio quickly tugged him by the delicate collar of his shirt back into the kiss, grinning in an almost selfish guilt against it.

 _Way to go,_ he thought bitterly. _Kiss your best friends very temperamental ex, who happens to be the almost exact opposite in mannerism to you._

Benvolio's mouth was practically overtaken by Tybalt's. It was aggressive, hungry, like he had been practically waiting for this moment. Benvolio just let himself blissfully melt into it, passively being attacked by the intense kiss. Tybalt pushed him tighter against the wall and Benvolio found himself sliding his hands over Tybalt's chest and shoulders to grip the shirt fabric on his back like his life depended on it.

God--this was far more than the harmless chaste kiss from earlier, and he was afraid of where exactly it was leading. Benvolio let out a hum of disappointment as they broke for breath, lips red as he stared slack-jawed.

"Way to be literal," he commented weakly, stumbling without resistance as Tybalt pulled him further into the shadows beneath the stairs that separated them from the dancing and music. His arms were still draped around Tybalt's neck in an inability to register what the hell had just happened.

And then Tybalt's lips were on his neck, and he really didn't have time to think again, the lower part of his back bumping into a raised, flat section of wooden platform that seemed to have some part in holding up the stairs above. Tybalt slid him onto it before Benvolio had time to question the very strange layout of Capulet stairs. He had to sit up and curve his back to meet Tybalt's lips without the taller teenager having to bend over too much, legs carefully wrapping around Tybalt and using the grip with his hands to securely position his hands on the others neck.

Tybalt found a spot on his collarbone and bit, and Benvolio let out a quiet hiss of surprise and pain, eyebrows knit together in confusion. It left an angry red spot that made Benvolio have to reassess how wise it would be to continue walking around shirtless in the Verona summer, the blemish exposed for everyone to see and ask nosy questions towards. He once again didn't have time to voice his annoyance before Tybalt's lips were pressed against his again in a kiss deep enough for Benvolio to drown in.  
He'd never kissed someone even near like this until at least several dates, as a standard, but everything was too fast and pleasant for Benvolio to deny himself the enjoyment, and only God knew he had secretly been very okay with the idea of this happening. He let out a tiny huff of surprise as Tybalt's hips rocked into his that evolved into a low, shameful whimper muffled by the kiss at the friction, the feeling of something poking at him from Tybalt's black trousers not at all lost on him.

Tybalt just seemed encouraged by the sound, smirking into his mouth and continuing the motion. He broke for breath once more to rest his forehead against Benvolio's, breath softly tickling his face. Benvolio let out a huff as he felt his belt being unbuckled by skilled, larger hands. "Tybalt, _what the hell,_ there's people nearby..."

"Nothing bad will happen. I've done this before." Right as he said it, however, a pair of footsteps could be heard thudding above them, and Benvolio gave him an accusatory stare.

Benvolio withdrew his arms from Tybalt to firmly place them on the Capulet's hands and halt his progress. "So you're going to attempt to kick me out of your party, then make out with me, and then treat me like some random boy you dragged under here to fuck. I'd rather leave, now that I think about it, actually." He was being entirely serious, even if the want clouding his green eyes was probably very obvious. "We're not forgetting about this once tonight ends," Benvolio insisted with a narrow of the eyes.

Tybalt ran his hands through his hair with a huff of indignation. "You're a Montague." The words had an unmistakable venom to them, even though it was more of frustration than outright dismissal of the idea. "That'd be a mess."

"I see the ways you stare at me during some of our classes when you're not trying to insult me in them." Admittedly, he only knew this because Benvolio stared at him just as often. "I mean, it probably wouldn't be a huge surprise to anyone. We'd make it work. Quietly. Jesus Christ, I'm not asking you to date me, I'm just asking you to recognize my existence in the future." They weren't idiots like their cousins. At least, _Benvolio_ wasn't.

Tybalt just sighed into the crook of Benvolio's shoulder, heavily considering. The more Benvolio thought about it, the more ridiculous the idea was--Tybalt didn't even particularly know much about him, other than when they had been friends in elementary and exactly how hard one needed to punch Benvolio Montague in the nose before he started bleeding from it.

"...Whatever happens. If Mercutio knows about this, though, I will literally murder you."

"Obviously. Just because he's my best friend doesn't mean I'd tell him this. He'd get upset." It left a bad aftertaste in his mouth--Benvolio knew Tybalt and Mercutio had done this and so much more before, albeit with less talking and more pent-up anger. Hell, Mercutio was his best friend, so the idea of keeping a secret like this from him made Benvolio wince a bit.

He was quick to discard the unfriendly thoughts as soon as Tybalt resumed loosening Benvolio's belt, placing it aside quietly before unceremoniously tugging the fabric of his boxers and jeans down to his knees.  
Benvolio was glad the shadows hid his blush as Tybalt almost immediately looked down, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. He probably imagined something smaller, with Benvolio's frame, and Benvolio couldn't help gloating somewhat in the reaction. He suddenly felt very self conscious, quickly deciding to distract himself by helping Tybalt with the task of loosening his trousers, hands shaky in nervousness as he finally managed to undo the button and tried to slide them down with precisely none of the expertise Tybalt had.

Benvolio's eyes, naturally, did drift downwards, almost immediately shooting his gaze back up to the cocky grin now on Tybalt's face.

Ugh. He already had enough things to be egotistical about without that being one of them.

Benvolio's throat suddenly felt like it was made out of drywall, mind dwelling back to what they were actually intending to do. "So--um. What were you wanting to...like, uh..." He made vague obscene hand gestures, while absolutely refusing to make eye contact with Tybalt, who he was sure was snickering inwardly at Benvolio's discomfort discussing such things.

"I'd need lube," Tybalt said bluntly, not dodging around any terminology like Benvolio nervously was. He began to pull up his trousers again as if to go look for said object, stopping as Benvolio quickly reached out to grab his elbow in a desperate lunge.

"The last thing I want to do is be left alone and naked under a stairwell. We don't have that much time. Let's do something else." 

Tybalt's dark eyes glimmered in thought as he leaned over Benvolio, close enough to breath on his neck, head hung in thought. Benvolio felt his blood run out of his swimming brain and pooling between his thighs as a hand gently ran its way up his leg and to his stomach, brushing just past his erection and making him want to die of anticipation. "Please, just. Do something. Or tell me to do something."

Tybalt rested his body against Benvolio's, torsos pressed together. Benvolio realized seeing Tybalt shirtless was mournfully something he would not get to experience tonight, considering the hastiness of being around literally tons of other people. He could feel his stomach drop as the Capulet rolled up Benvolio's shirt slightly to leave small, quick kisses down his torso trailing down, making goosebumps rise. Tybalt suddenly slid down to his knees, which was extremely uncharacteristic of him based on everything Benvolio knew, and Benvolio had to stifle his startled moan with his hand as Tybalt suddenly took the tip of his cock into his mouth.

"Tybalt-- _fuck--_ " Benvolio was in complete shock, staring down with a bright red blush. Jesus. He hadn't expected this. Maybe he imagined the reverse of this, or just them harmlessly jacking each other off, or something else--but Tybalt Capulet of _all people_ had his mouth on him, and Benvolio did not wake up that day with the slightest expectation that he'd end up at this point.

Benvolio could do nothing but watch in a glazed bliss as Tybalt lowered his mouth onto his length, before entirely releasing it and letting his tongue lazily drift down the shaft, pressing soft kisses to it. Clearly he had plenty of experience to work with--Benvolio was practically squirming under the touches, making quiet groans and whimpers, which made him more embarrassed as time went on. Each time somebody passed up the stairs, Benvolio had to bite down on his hand, because Tybalt apparently didn't give enough of a shit to stop.

Benvolio could already tell he wasn't going to last nearly as long as he needed to without feeling ashamed at how long it had been since anyone had done something like this to him, his free hand grasping onto Tybalt's short, black hair as he leaned back slightly, suddenly thankful that he was sitting on something--otherwise, he was sure his knees would've given out just from the sheer gravity of the situation.

And then Tybalt's throat tightened at some point and Benvolio lost complete grasp on the situation, pulling up on the Capulet's hair and stuttering his name into thin fingers as he came. What had probably killed him was that Tybalt had looked up at him practically the entire time, dark brown eyes smug, like he was getting some sort of pleasure from making the usually stable Benvolio unravel at the seams.

He stood up again to stare at Benvolio, grimacing slightly and angling his head to the floor to spit and empty his mouth.

"That's cute, spitting it out on the floor," Benvolio drawled sarcastically, trying to return his breathing to normal to help his probably bright-red face. Benvolio shut his eyes and licked his lips in disbelief. What the hell did he just get himself into tonight? This _was_ going to be a mess.

Tybalt just stared back at him and raised an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to Benvolio's lips that made him shiver and grasp onto Tybalt's jawline before he pulled away. "People are probably going to wonder where I went," he huffed, suddenly completely avoiding eye contact with Benvolio. He pulled up his pants and quickly buttoned them, like this was just normal business. "Otherwise I would ask you to return the favour." Benvolio had realized in quiet guilt that Tybalt still had unattended business of his own.

"Always around if you need me," Benvolio loftily responded with a small, cheeky grin, leaning over to pick up his belt as he stood and pulled up the jeans bunched up at his knees. He looked up to see if Tybalt would respond only to find him gone.

Of course.

Benvolio finished buckling his belt and suddenly found himself very intoxicated, very out of place, and very much wanting to just head home. Trying to enjoy the party any further than he just had would've been impossible, and he needed time to think. A lot, probably, considering that he only had one day before he had to sit next to Tybalt in Physics in his very first class period.

Anyways, he had faith this wouldn't end quickly. Opposites attracted and all.


End file.
